


vantablack

by scifis



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Blood and Injury, Bounty Hunters, Complicated Relationships, Emotional Constipation, Enemies to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Unreliable Narrator, question mark ?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:49:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25801627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifis/pseuds/scifis
Summary: Jaehyun looks at him, stares long and hard, counts the eyelashes framing his eyes. There are a million things he wants to tell Juyeon — thank you for saving me, your grey hoodie is drenched in blood, I think I might love you but I am not sure.In the end, he says none of those.
Relationships: Lee Jaehyun | Hyunjae/Lee Juyeon
Comments: 27
Kudos: 82





	vantablack

**Author's Note:**

> the worldbuilding in this fic is mediocre at most. i have spent a few nights writing it, so in a way i'm saying goodbye (or hello?) to my insomnia partner... and it feels weird.
> 
> title from “vantablack” by novo amor. this isn’t a songfic by any means, but the song did inspire me to write it. thank you to a mutual on twitter who (kind of) recommended it to me.
> 
> please be careful/mindful of the tags even though i wouldn’t say there’s much violence in here. fight scenes are both in the first and in the last scenes, injuries quite frequently make an appearance, chanhee is deaf, jaehyun has a weird. Way of thinking about things, and i apologize for that.
> 
> english isn’t my first language so i apologize for any mistakes, and i truly hope you enjoy it!
> 
> [EDIT: if there's anyone wondering, Horus is the Egyptian deity of sun/the skies, and is often tied with the light, protection, power and royalty. Vidar is the Norse god of vengeance, known as the “silent god”, second strongest god after Thor!]

The drops of rain against his skin feel like needles; cruel, aiming to hurt, making him hyperfocus on them. He lays on the concrete, chest heavy and empty, while pain shoots up his back and lodges itself in his every muscle. He should be used to this by now. His mouth is shut tight.

The other man’s hair is so black it turns blue under the sickly lamppost lights; he kicks the body on the ground one more time, just for good measure. Jaehyun sees stars he doesn’t even know the name of. The man is called Horus by everyone, birthname a risk he’s chosen not to take. He has never read a single thing about Egyptian mythology in his life and Jaehyun can tell just by looking at him. “Do something funny again, and I swear I’ll break your nose a second time.” He is holding something important in his hands. Jaehyun’s mind runs. _Click_.

Right. The android part he came to steal.

“But I thought it was pretty,” he mutters through gritted teeth. Pain is all he feels. His nose really is broken. “Wanted it just for myself.” The man grabs him by the hairs on his nape, tugs so hard at them Jaehyun has no choice but to sit straight. He tilts his head back and looks him in the eyes. Smiles big.

Horus is known for being mean, being vicious, being dangerous and never letting go of a job until it is finished, but so is Vidar—so is Jaehyun. It’s not the first time they’ve met. Won’t be the last. He can feel the blood running down his face; it leaves its metallic taste sitting on top of his tongue. Numb.

Click.

They are acquaintances, somehow. Have been through this more times than either of them can count. Sometimes Jaehyun wins, beats Horus to a pulp, leaves him to take care of himself laying on the concrete of a dirty alley, bloody and broken and helpless, but other times he doesn’t, and Horus gets the money-maker junk they were both searching for. A cycle.

“I’m sorry, Vidar. Not sharing this one.” And, with his fingers still threading Jaehyun’s hair, he smashes his head on the ground. Everything hurts. His eyes close, his breathing halts, his mind doesn’t run for a long time after that. He gives in. _Click_.

Eric looks at him like he’s insane. Jaehyun kind of believes he is, too. The kid’s eyes are big and his hands move in exaggerated motions, finding for him the words he doesn’t know how to say out loud. “What do you mean Horus took the metal thing, hyung?” And then he explains one more time. Calm. This is what he is. This is who he, Jaehyun, _Vidar_ , is.

“How the– how could you let that happen? We told you we needed that piece to finish this project,” and by we he means him and New. Jaehyun looks at the low ceiling above his head. Sighs. Scans the small room. New is sitting cross legged on the floor near the only bed they have, a dirty queen-sized mattress with no sheets, playing with a Rubik’s cube and looking at the exchange with a raised eyebrow. They blink at each other; time slows down so Jaehyun can think about what excuse to give them.

“I,” he pauses. Deep down, he knows they’re always counting on him. Knows they need his skills to make money. Knows they have now lost a lot of money, are always losing or gaining money because of him, knows he plays a big role in this just like the other hunters they work with. Jaehyun’s ribs sing a song he hasn’t heard in years, straining against his skin, fighting to come to life, hurting bad, bad, bad. He thinks of black hair that turns blue under ugly lights. “I guess he needed it, too.”

Click.

Both boys know him as Vidar but he doesn’t know himself at all. New seems to think very hard about something, then signs a few words to Eric, who in return thinks very hard as well. “It’s the second time this month, Vidar-hyung. Hwall, that his name?, did the same thing to you just a few weeks ago.”

Jaehyun knows a trick: if you look at your feet, they’ll think you’re apologizing, ashamed. He does just that. “Your heart is too big for your body. You need this money to survive, Vidar-hyung, I know this is your only job.”

Where he got that information from is a mystery. “Kid, I’m sorry. I couldn’t do much,” _Could he? Can he ever?_ “Horus was already there when I broke in.” He fidgets with the bandages covering his hands and New can read lips well so he knows what is going on—gets up, pats him on the back, says something that probably means _You are stupid_ in sign language and goes out the door.

“Next time, hyung,” Eric looks too serious about this for some reason. _Have they eaten today? Yesterday? Have they eaten at all this week?_ “You better get there before him.”

The streets of Seoul are crowded and it makes Jaehyun feel intrusive like a parasite to his own skin. He wishes he could do better, but he can’t. Hasn’t been able to for a long time. It probably looks funny to outsiders, a man his size struggling to walk, falter steps taking him nowhere. A joke. His good knee doesn’t laugh but the bad one does, and Jaehyun finds it ironic. Maybe if he’d gone to school as a little boy.

He didn’t.

It’s been a week, give or take, since his last job. A few wires for a few bucks. He hasn’t talked to anyone besides Jacob for days—and that only continues to happen because Jacob owns a cheap restaurant with actual good food. They’re friends, kind of. Jaehyun’s nose still feels phantom pain when he touches it. He decides he wants to get drunk.

The pub he chooses is a random one who looks a little less suspicious than the others, but still random. The air enveloping him smells like metal and sweat and the horrible combination of five different colognes. As good as it can get. Jaehyun runs a hand through his dyed hair—grey? Blonde? and walks directly to where he knows he can buy drinks.

No one asks him how old he is as he orders a Gold Rush, and he doesn’t even know how his mind remembers the taste of one as he starts sipping the cocktail. He should’ve ordered tequila. The bartender smiles at him and she is pretty, her red hair long and cascading down her shoulders. Jaehyun averts his eyes. There are bodies dancing all over each other around him, people shouting and others not, on the tables near the bar.

Someone occupies the stool by his right and when he looks over, his ribs start to sing again. Black jeans, shirt clinging to the body like a second skin, fingers long and bruised and a cut on the lower lip where people probably have kissed over and over again lifetimes ago. Horus has deep eyes; dark, demanding, powerful where Jaehyun’s—Vidar’s—drip with mischief. Sickeningly, disgustingly sweet. _Where did the honey come from?_ Gold Rush, right. He should’ve ordered tequila.

“Vidar,” _Jaehyun, Jaehyun, Jaehyun is my name. Call me. Say it. Should I call you as well? How? What is your name?_ “I’ve never seen you around here.” There is an airy laugh after he is done and Jaehyun thinks he might have missed the punchline of this one joke.

He runs a hand through his hair again—platinum blonde, he decides, and smiles big. “Needed to take my mind off of things. You know how real it gets when you’re fighting other people for second-hand hardware everyday to make a living, don’t you?”

There is no answer, but Horus orders a simple beer and stays where he is, and Jaehyun takes it. The other man is vintage in a cyberpunk world, looks older and wiser than he probably is while sipping quietly and humming to himself. It gives Jaehyun whiplash, the contrast of it all—the loud music surrounding and meeting them where they are quiet above it, memories of a last time where they met outside their hunts and the feeling of Horus’s big hands on his waist. He doesn’t say another word.

One lifetime, then two. A beat and another. _Tequila, please._ “Vidar, do you–” Horus sucks in a breath. Coughs. A lifetime more. There is no honey this time, only bitterness, only the burning of his drink sliding down his throat. “Do you want to come home with me?” _Click_.

It’s Jaehyun’s time to scoff, laugh silently, twist his face because Horus is not joking anymore and they both know it. “Last time we saw each other–,” he is falling. On the concrete, on the infinite space between them. His nose is broken and his heart is the same. “Last time we saw each other you broke my nose and left me unconscious on the ground in the middle of a storm.”

Horus, for once, looks sheepish. Shy. Fidgets with his glass, bites around the cut that adorns his mouth. Jaehyun reaches a hand to free his lower lip, pauses, decides he doesn’t give a shit and sits his thumb there. Horus kind of melts, kind of doesn’t, a sound threatening to come out of his throat at the contact. “I really needed that money.” Not _I am sorry_ or _Yeah, I shouldn’t have done that_ ; just _It was necessary_. That is something they both know.

Jaehyun isn’t sure how he becomes Vidar, back then and right now, he doesn’t know—fifteen and homeless, twenty-two and with a crush on someone who steals for a living like he does. He decides the world sucks, Seoul sucks, the Government sucks, because he wants to know Horus’s name and wants Horus to know his but they don’t trust each other like that yet. Or can’t. “I know you did, baby. I know you did.”

Horus sucks lightly on the thumb separating his lips, unnoticeable for everyone but him, but Jaehyun. Asks the question again with his eyes, coy. Holds the hand Jaehyun has stretched out and kisses it open-mouthedly. Maybe if they’d gone to school as little kids.

They didn’t. _Click_.

He knows hands, knows touches, knows kisses but not like this; not like him. The man takes his time. Where Vidar is stained black, Horus is painted gold. The cut on his lower lip starts bleeding again as they kiss and somehow it isn’t gross but addictive, hot, poisonous. Jaehyun wants him so much.

The ride to Horus’ apartment is a short one, they go on foot. Climb the stairs to the last floor. Horus gets his keys, turns the doorknob. There is not a single word either of them can say, so they just touch—and touch, and touch, and touch. “Bedroom,” Horus almost whines in his ear. Poison. “My bedroom, now, please–” and then it is silent. His breath tastes like beer and blood against Jaehyun.

Their clothes are discarded in a rush, no shame in being eager, and the bed welcomes Horus as he lays down first. They pride themselves on their bodies, years and years of exercising and fighting each other and other people—a small waist at the tips of his fingers, a shiver, two. Jaehyun finds gold scattered across the body of the man beneath him, finds gold in the chest he makes sure to kiss every inch of, gold in the slender fingers supporting his head as he moves south.

Jaehyun sees as the man turns gooey under him, sees as his chest expands and contracts searching for air, as he gives in and trusts Jaehyun to take care of him. His black hair looks like a halo surrounding his head, eyes shut, lips parted, a god.

Horus. How fitting.

When he wakes up, the air meeting his lungs feels heavy but his body doesn’t hurt anymore. There is an arm around his chest and even though the apartment is a cold, lifeless, small beaten up thing in the outskirts of the city, he feels the warmth radiating from it. Horus pouts when he sleeps. Jaehyun doesn’t even register the fact that they are both still naked, focuses on the way sleep writes itself in the features of the body next to him. Horus looks almost innocent with the sun meeting his skin and painting him Renaissance.

One eye opens, and then two—the furrow on his brows disappears like it was never there, and a Cheshire cat smile slowly creeps up his lips. “Good morning, Vidar,” he says. His voice is deep, eyes deeper, aura infinite.

“Jaehyun. You can call me Jaehyun,” please call me Jaehyun _pleasepleaseplease_.

The man raises an eyebrow, grin stretching thin like magma at the sides of a vulcano. Dangerous. Hot. Deep. “Jaehyun,” he tests out. It sounds good coming from his lips, foreign, eternal like a promise—in a way, it really is. I won’t tell. I’ll keep you safe. I will take your name, tuck it in a safe place inside my heart, bring it as extra luggage to my casket.

“What a beautiful name that is,” _Click_.

Vidar comes to life again, New and Eric promising this hunt is an easy one and the need for money speaking louder than his injured knee or any other injury, really, if he’s being honest. New, dark hair this time, signs while Eric, glasses perched on top of his nose, translates word to word for Jaehyun to understand fully what the job is about: a flashdrive for a new counterfeit android they’re finishing up.

Jaehyun doesn’t think much about the robots, the androids, but knows how much people pay to have them built from scratch — some because they are lonely, some because they need a hand or two, others simply because they can. They want to. They’re curious; what would it be like to have by my side someone who looks human, acts human, but is not human? What would it be like to be in control?

If he had the money, Jaehyun thinks, he would simply choose to live in blissful ignorance. Maybe pay a doctor to have his knee healed. Learn better words, learn how to gain more money, and continue with his life.

He doesn’t ask the name of this new project, never does. Nods his head. Get the little data storage device from the big company with a fault on their security system, bring it back, get the money, move on. Move on. Move on.

“Think you’re in good condition for that, Vidar-hyung?” Eric is smirking. Jaehyun kind of hates it. It must show, because the smile leaves his lips as soon as it comes, and then Eric is serious and it looks kind of funny but Jaehyun can’t laugh because— “We– if you fail this time, hyung, I’m sorry but... We won’t be able to keep working with you.”

Jaehyun knows this but he suspects that the part of him that is Vidar doesn’t, because somehow it stings. Somehow it hurts. He smiles and looks down. “It’s okay, kid. I’ll just... do my best.”

The door makes a weird sound when he leaves but he isn’t listening. His eyes are focused on the neon signs around him, mind going back to the blueprint he was given. Both New and Eric are younger than him but the fact that they can build cyborgs from scratch and he can only throw a few punches shows him who is in a better place in life. Or so he thinks. Jaehyun doesn’t really trust himself to judge.

He walks. Considers going to Jacob’s for a meal, but he isn’t hungry. Considers going home so he can rest, but he isn’t tired. Jaehyun feels misplaced. Like he exists somewhere he shouldn’t, as if there would be a different place in the world where he could belong to instead. Gold comes to mind. A click. He continues walking.

  
  
  


The USB drive weighs nothing in the pocket of his bomber jacket — if he wasn’t holding onto it, Jaehyun thinks it wouldn’t even be real. He has a cut on his left eyebrow and a broken hand, can’t move his bad leg without feeling like he wants to crawl out of his skin. His ribs don’t sing and there is no one chasing him for the piece he just stole, so he counts both of those as one whole victory. Jaehyun wants to quit his job.

Only in the safety of his own apartment does he allow himself to rest; takes off the jacket, the pants, the shoes he’s wearing, his body floating in the air for a moment not long enough before meeting his bed in a trance. The phantom pain on his nose is still there — nothing, nothing compared to the real pain he feels after finishing a job — and he briefly wonders if his mind is playing tricks on him when the familiarity brings him warmth. He has no clothes on and his window is open, heater turned off ever since he got the apartment because he can’t afford both the rent and the electricity bill if he turns it on.

With his good hand, Jaehyun touches his face and flinches. His body tingles all over — he’s warm, warmer than when he was with his jacket on, warmer than he was when the adrenaline was still running through his veins during the fight minutes before. His body hurts. He makes a mental note to ask Eric and New for an even easier job next time. Getting old for this job. Getting old for this. Getting old. There’s an incessant thump on his ears that he thinks might be the beat of his own heart.

Jaehyun goes to sleep with nothing but pain on his mind. There’s no click.

Horus kisses him and, for the first time, he tastes nothing like alcohol. Jaehyun doesn’t know if that’s a good thing but kisses back anyway. They’re in his apartment now, cleaner, a bit bigger, more known, but the whole situation is so unfamiliar he might as well be anywhere else in the world.

(“Vidar, hello!” For appearances. Out in public no one could know he was Jaehyun, and Horus was kind. Kind. Kind. Enthusiastic about something, too, apparently? His hair was so dark. His everything was gold. “I’m glad I ran into you so early in the week, I wanted to contact you before it was over but had no idea how and–”

“Why?” As much of a surprise as it was, appearances mattered the most when out in public. So many people walked around them and if Jaehyun’s birthname got out, he would probably get arrested. Would probably die. Everything he’d ever built for himself was at risk, because he was flawed and a failure, an illegal hunter who took over jobs he probably shouldn’t, considering his knee laughed most of the time and would probably get him caught one day.

But the man in front of him found his name, flaw, beautiful. Found Jaehyun beautiful?

Jaehyun ran his fingers through his hair, a new hair color this time. Black. Natural. Suited him best, made him look stronger than he was—Jaehyun was weak, weak, weak, but. Appearances. “Why did you want to contact me, Horus?”

“Eric wanted us to work together on something a bit bigger than what we’re used to.” A smile. Saccharine, honey, Jaehyun vividly remembered one of the kids from the orphanage he lived in as a child was diabetic. “You live close by, don’t you?” _Click._ )

“Was that a lie?” He asks between kisses, throws his legs over the other man’s lap but doesn’t separate their lips while he sits there. “Did you lie to me so you could get into my pants, Horus?”

The sun is setting slowly behind them, casts funny shadows in the other’s face, tethers him to Earth. Horus smiles easily, so easily, looks at him with a fondness Jaehyun’s never seen in other people.

“I didn’t lie to you, hyung,” He kisses him again. Again. The conversation gets lost until, “You’re just really distracting. And good. I’m sorry,”

“Eric told me you keep getting almost caught.”

And there it is — the reminder of his many failures. Discussing them out loud feels like scratching repeatedly at an open wound. It’s agonizing, humiliating, hurts way more than it should but if there’s one thing Jaehyun knows is that Horus is kind. “I do, don’t I?”

“We just need to look for a hard drive, Jaehyun-hyung. I’m gonna be there with you.” _You’re gonna be fine_ , Horus doesn’t say, because he can’t promise that and they both know it.

Jaehyun sighs, gets off the couch and stands there, looking at the ground. The desperate, tired part of him wants to say _I don’t want to_ , wants to back down and never trust anyone again — not that he has, really; if Horus ran off with his name to any government officer and said “This man’s job is illegal, he helps make the robots you despise, his dirty money got him where he is,” Jaehyun thinks he would let him get away with it. Wouldn’t even blame him, because he’s been expecting that or something along those lines the whole time.

So maybe he’s a sadistic, sad, lonely man behind all the walls he’s put up. Maybe he’s so much of those, he almost wants someone to tell on him — being able to say, _Yeah, they know, they knew, I opened myself up to them!_ and forget the part where he eventually has to hear _And look at where that got you_ back.

Jaehyun opens and closes his mouth many times.

Fingertips trace his wrist, touch caring and meaning more to him than he feels inclined to admit. Horus holds his hand, kisses the pads of his fingers, lays his mouth down on the point where his pulse is. It has Jaehyun’s throat closing.

“My name is Juyeon,” the man says against his palm, after a few seconds. “I want you to know that my name is Juyeon.”

The sun sets behind the curtains, brings darkness to them — he’s surrounded by the cold against his bare feet, Juyeon’s breathing against his skin, the calming beat of his own heart.

“Tell Eric we’re accepting the job offer,” he pauses. Jaehyun feels light, so light, feels like nothing else, no one else in the world will ever have this effect on him. “As strange as it sounds, whoever named you did a good job on it, Juyeon. It suits you.” Thank you, _thank you for trusting me_ , he doesn’t say.

Jaehyun doesn’t say many things he thinks he probably should.

Click.

Walking back from New’s, his head spins. Juyeon had wanted to know everything about the project they’ll be working on, who it is for, how long it will take to build it — where Jaehyun usually keeps those questions unasked, Juyeon had babbled on.

“Hyung!” He hears. The neon lights follow Juyeon’s tall frame as he runs, a dog. Jaehyun smiles at the comparison his brain makes. “Hyung, you’re not mad at me, are you?”

His lips form a pout, and only then Jaehyun sees the man curling into himself — almost as if he wants to make himself smaller next to him. For some reason, Jaehyun’s heart leaps.

There had been an argument, angry whispers between the two of them as New ran off to grab a notebook so he could use imagery to explain himself better, since neither Jaehyun nor Juyeon knew sign language and Eric was only there through a phone call. (“Stop being so nosy, we just need the basics, Horus,” versus “We’ve never worked together before, hyung, but this is how I do things.”)

Eventually, Juyeon won. Most of the time he did. Jaehyun doesn’t know where that train of thought is going to lead him, so he just gives up entirely.

They walk side by side. There are tall buildings and not that many people surrounding them, but that’s how it always feels when they’re together, at least in Jaehyun’s point of view. Maybe hypersensitivity to Juyeon is a thing he suffers from.

“Not mad at you,” he mutters back. _Never mad at anyone. Never mad at you._ “But why did you want to know so much about the robot, anyway?” It’s just one more. Just another one — they’ll never see it, interact with it, let alone get to know it. Are robots _it_? Are cyborgs _them, he, she_?

No words get back to him and the silence between them stretches long enough to get both of their tired bodies back to Jaehyun’s apartment, discard their jackets and put sweatpants on. (“My house gets really cold at night”, Juyeon had said a few days back, messenger bag full of toiletries. So he stayed, and Jaehyun let him.)

It’s dark again when they lay down facing each other. Jaehyun has learned he likes holding hands a lot, so they do. Limbo is where they’re at, most of the time — they’ve slept together, beaten each other up, made conversation every once in a while. It’s a hard territory to cross, and Jaehyun doesn’t feel like doing it alone, so. Silence. Again. Until–

“Hyung, I–” Juyeon starts. His eyes are open wide and there’s an emotion in them Jaehyun hasn’t seen in a while, something so close to fear it awakens his every instinct immediately. “I have something to tell you.”

Two things come to him at once, epiphanies clear like the water from a font he’s seen in a magazine once, as a kid. _Click_ : Juyeon is an android. He’s not fascinated with them because he’s weird, but because he is them and they are him and he is. A robot. Someone built him — sculpted every nook and cranny of his body. He’s been programmed, tested, and he’s not human.

Second, most important, a reality so true it shakes off the weariness once settled in Jaehyun’s bones, lights every single part of him on fire, _click_ : he would follow Juyeon to the depths of Tartarus, given the need.

“Juyeon,” he breathes out, knowing. “Juyeon, Juyeon, _Juyeon_.”

There is nothing he can say that would mean more, he thinks. “Juyeon,” he repeats, again and again, as Juyeon sobs into his chest, no secrets between them anymore, nothing unknown, nothing to fear, to be scared of.

What is your name has always been deeper than what is your favorite color, what thoughts keep you up at night in their world, anyway, but Jaehyun thinks he wants to ask Juyeon those other ones, sometime, too.

 _What are you_ isn’t a question he worries about — he knows who Juyeon is, and that is sacred. That is theirs.

All the adrenaline in his blood makes him run, bad knee be damned, to get home soon. He’s already called Eric, alreay told him he has the drive, discussed prices and payments. Jaehyun only needs to get home, now. Hopefully kiss Juyeon awake, if that’s something he’s allowed to do.

A shadow makes him stop in his tracks. He counts two more, three in total, before a string of curse words writes itself in his brain.

“Got something in that pocket of yours, hunter?” The bigger man says. He’s got at least an inch and a half on Jaehyun, tattoos covering both of his arms, no hair in his head. Jaehyun opts for running again.

As it is, running seems like the wrong thing to opt for — the punch to his ribs is hard, and solid, and just shy of breaking him in half, he feels like. Jaehyun is tired of fights.

“Just a hard drive. Nothing on it,” he wheezes out as loud as he can muster. “I swear,” for good measure.

Tattoo Arms tsks. Jaehyun wants to quit his job.

He closes his eyes, and waits for whatever comes next; it’s a kick to his leg. There are never stars in Seoul’s night sky but the ones in his vision can make up for it even during the day. His knee laughs, laughs, and laughs along with the three men crowding his personal space.

Jaehyun wonders what’s so funny.

The first punch he delivers is to the smaller man to his left, square in the jaw. He sees the man stumble two steps back, and doesn’t even blink before throwing a second punch, this time to the other man, in his right.

They’re easy to shake, but Tattoo Arms just looks at him with an eyebrow raised. Jaehyun knows his odds.

Just when he’s thinking about kicking the guy right where it hurts, something hard hits the side of his head, and Jaehyun, while he’s about to hit the groud, swears the crowbar came out of thin air.

Centuries later his eyes find the light again and it’s too bright.

The only window in his bedroom is open, and the view is as ugly as he remembers it to be — residential skyscrapers as old as his, neon signs awake like giants making themselves known in the street one-too-many stories down. A single lightbulb swings lightly side to side above his head, and that’s mostly why his head hurts so bad, Jaehyun thinks. Apart from the obvious concussion he can feel where he touched the ground with it.

Juyeon sits on the edge of the bed, looking at the wall in front of him. Everything burns when Jaehyun tries to sit but it gets Juyeon’s attention on him, so he guesses it is worth it.

“You’re the worst, Jaehyun,” Juyeon says, without honorifics and all. The rage in his eyes burns more than any pain any man could ever feel. “You’re the worst person I’ve met in my life.”

He has no answer to that.

Juyeon turns around, and he’s got blood on his hands, but somehow Jaehyun knows it doesn’t belong to either of them. He thinks about those three men, and wonders how long it took for Juyeon to find him unconscious and deal with them, and how the order of those things went.

“I’m sorry–”

“Don’t you dare,” Juyeon almost growls. His fists are shaking and Jaehyun wants to hold them between his own. “Don’t you fucking _dare_ say that. It was our job. I was supposed to be by your side. My alarm rang and you weren’t here and I–”

 _I feared the worst, I went out to look for you, I hate you_ , probably. A sob leaves Juyeon’s lips and Jaehyun wonders how that can happen when there are no tears in his eyes. “I thought you had _left_ me! I have no idea what you were thinking, hyung. I never have _any idea_ what you are thinking.”

Jaehyun looks at him, stares long and hard, counts the eyelashes framing his eyes. There are a million things he wants to tell Juyeon — thank you for saving me, your grey hoodie is drenched in blood, I think I might love you but I am not sure.

In the end, he says none of those.

They sit there for what feels like forever, until Juyeon stops shaking, until their breaths become one single being and they can’t tell who exhales and who inhales, or when.

“I told you my name first,” he starts, unsure. This isn’t a confession. Maybe. Probably. “Because I wanted things to go wrong. I waited for them to.” _They never did and I don’t understand why._

“I think, Juyeon,” and there’s the drop of a coin, the cascading of a waterfall, the Big Bang all over again, but they’re looking at each other for the first time even in the middle of it all. “I think that... I might be the worst person you’ve met, but you’re not even human and–” _You are the best person I know._ You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. You can break all of my ribs, make music out of them, throw me to the wolves and I’ll still come back to you because I’m selfish but you are golden.

He knows he’s crying when Juyeon starts answering something, because he can’t see past the blur when “Jaehyun-hyung” meets his ears.

“We should quit work,” Juyeon says. “We should quit and move some place far away, and I’ll take care of you, and we’ll talk. Without stuttering. No need to break anymore.” He means anything, Jaehyun thinks, from bones to sentences to hearts to–

And, Jaehyun counts to three. It sounds so easy, almost too easy, to just say _Yes, I’d like that._ _I’d go anywhere with you._ But– “What we need, Juyeon, is a hospital. I think I have a broken leg.”

Jaehyun waits, waits, and waits. The _click_ comes with Juyeon’s smile — sometimes, it feels good to break. To be broken in return. At least, he thinks, as Juyeon kisses him home, as Juyeon tries to understand him in ways he himself cannot. At least he belongs somewhere.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos are always welcome but i’d love to know what you thought about this mess of a story i wrote while sleep deprived! constructive criticism is my friend
> 
> i hope it wasn’t confusing or too weird, and made you feel at least little bit of something. hj and jy deserve the world theyre the best boys in existence


End file.
